Fight for Control
by Terez
Summary: Iron Man 3 spoilers. Building the Marks 8-42. Tony fights to regain his control after New York and in the process builds 35 new suits.


**A/N: Iron Man is owned by Marvel**

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**Fighting for Control **

He isn't entirely sure when it all starts; he only knows that the idea of sleeping puts him on edge, so instead, he tinkers.

He feels an overwhelming need to build, creating the Mark 8 and Mark 9 in a matter of weeks, far faster than other builds, but it isn't satisfying. A part of him itches to build again, a part he can't explain, but the Mark 10 and the Mark 11 join the ranks; still, it doesn't seem enough.

The Marks 12-25 are nothing more than a blur, a hazed moment full of coffee mixed with little sleep here and there where he can catch it. He asks Pepper to move in during the build of the Mark 26, or the Mark 27, he isn't all that certain anymore, his days are blending together, but he knows she's officially all moved in a few days after the completion of the Mark 28.

The Mark 29 sits for several days as blueprints while him and Pepper acclimate to living together. Those few nights are most he's felt rested, with her pressed against him in sleep, but the itch to build returns nonetheless. He feels jittery and on edge as he slinks from the bed with out waking Pepper. The moment he enters the garage he feels as if he can breath, his body relaxing around the whirl and mechanics of his gear, finally feeling in control again.

"Are you alright?" Pepper asks a few days later when he's still failing to stay in bed with her all night.

"Yeah," he responds quickly. "Just got a lot floating around up here," he offers with a smile and a tap at his temple.

Pepper nods with a laugh and a slight roll of her eye, it's nothing new to her, they both know he's a workaholic and often gets lost in his own mind; she also knows his sleeping patterns have always been erratic, and that he often can go days without rest, so she doesn't question. "Just don't overwork yourself," she warns lovingly as she moves towards him though the room, her eyes catching the face mask behind him on a table. "That the Mark eight?" she questions, jutting her chin at the table.

He doesn't know why a knot seems to grow in his stomach or why he feels the need to hide from her as guilt over comes him. "Boom disposal," he offers up as an answer, neither confirming nor denying which model it is.

Pepper nods in response and doesn't question further, she's never been the biggest fan of his suits. "I'm off to work," she tells him, warping her arms around him as she kisses his lips. "Try not to over work yourself," she warns again as she steps away. "And please remember to eat."

"You worry too much Pep," he calls after her as she gets in one of the cars.

"One of us has to," she teases though the open window of the car then drives out of the garage.

For several moments he feels better, having Pepper around seems to lighten his mood, but it's all short lived after she's gone; the desire to build is consuming.

Their mornings continue in a similar routine, though Pepper doesn't ask another question about the suits until the build of the Mark 33.

"The Mark eleven?" she asks with a chuckle, as her eyes settle on the latest design while she sets a fresh cup of coffee down on the table for him.

He chuckles back slightly, flashing a large grin in response; he doesn't have it in him to lie directly to her. He isn't surprised either she thinks there's so few; when it's all broken down to the smallest components they're impossible to tell apart. It's only when they are mostly completed that she's able to tell it's a new design, and even than he hides what he can.

"Where are you keeping them?" Pepper asks as her eyes settle on the display case, holding only the first seven.

"Down in the wine cellar," he throws out offhandedly, hopping she wont push the subject.

"The wine cellar?" Pepper asks in confusion, cocking her head slightly.

"Yeah," he says casually. "I just, I didn't think there was really enough room up here." He's glad when she asks no more questions about the suits, and instead leaves for work; he's not sure how long he can withhold the truth.

He hasn't slept in 70 hours, as J.R.V.I.S reminds him yet again, it's all irrelevant in his mind. This he knows is the answer; his body itches with anticipation as every moment grows closer, the Mark 42 is right around the corner, and maybe, just maybe, after this, he can sleep.

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**A/N: Alright so I hope everyone enjoyed this, I really wanted to do a piece with him building all the suits. I hope you all liked it! Please review :)**


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